Magic and Myth
by Q u e e n V a m p
Summary: "I am Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief." That statement alone let her know she should have left him in the rain in brave Mrs. Dubose's frying pan of doom. /Loki & Hermione/
1. the girl who hated summer

**Title: **Magic and Myth  
**Song: **Myspace Girl by The Afters  
**Rating: **T for language and future chapters  
**Genre: **Humor, Angst, Romance  
**Fandom: **_Thor _and _Harry Potter  
_**Couple: **Loki/Hermione  
**Inspiration: **'By My Side' by **Blinded-Kit**

**Warnings:** Pre-Thor, teenager!Loki, reference to Loki as a puppy, frying pans of doom, crazy old women, messing with the weather, magic outside of school, ungodly large libraries, rude wake up calls, invasions of privacy, close proximities, mild swearing, _Doctor Who _mentioning, _Macbeth _reference, _Sassy Gay Friend _reference and clueless parents

* * *

_"Any clue just as to who, I've fallen for_

_Cause you got me and I've got time."_

-"Myspace Girl" by The Afters

* * *

Hermione can't for the life of her pin-point exactly how he'd flawlessly wormed his way into her life and daily routines. All that seemed to matter since that one cloudy summer day is that he was there and—she didn't care what he said it was outright _stalking—_always right behind a corner with his endowment for mischief and a scheme of some sort in tow. And she went along with it. Not that she enjoyed it, but someone had to keep an eye on him.

It was the summer before her fourth year, a little ways out of the lingering regiments of May and crawling slowly further into the warmer months ahead when he'd, quite literally, fallen into her life.

Hermione Granger had a love-hate relationship with summers. Before her Hogwarts, and primitive schooling, days they'd been short months for her to sit outside and read whatever she found interesting, having picnics with her mum and dad in the park, staying up late and watch video documentaries about faraway places with a bowl of popcorn much larger than herself. Though after she'd gone to Hogwarts, and had become a little older, they were long months that separated her from her time turner and the huge libraries of the castle, time away from knowledge she could be wrapping around her finger, time she could use her magic, time away from her friends.

The summer before second year, she and Ron had written religiously for months to their friend Harry, only to get no response—later they'd found it to be the house elf, Dobby's fault for stealing his mail, but still it hurt that he didn't reply to any of them thereafter, she _had_ put a lot of work into those letters.

Now, after third year, she'd finally realized that she'd just been lonely, and refused to let it get to her. Besides, she felt that she deserved a metal for this year with the unnerving dreams of the notoriously Bellatrix Lestrange, who was rumored to be at large, still crept up on her every now again, helping a known 'fugitive' escape _Askaban_ and she'd finished dealing with the sore spot on her fist where Draco Malfoy had bruised it with his nose some months earlier.

This summer, she swore, would be different. This summer the awkward pre-teen years had all but left her and she swore that no matter what she'd find something fun to do in her small hometown. Her friends had promised her they'd all find a way to all get together, and she promised to do more than read. Besides she'd have the house mainly to herself due to the new candy store in town that was consequently rotting the teeth of the children nearby.

It was a match made in heaven summer. She could do anything she wanted.

However, tripping over a man fallen straight from legend never crossed her mind.

* * *

Loki had spent the last half hour staring at the television and she'd spent the last half hour staring at him.

No, it wasn't because he was any more fascinating a subject than Matt Smith's comedic performance of the Doctor on _Doctor Who, _but for the simple fact that a man who claimed to be a Norse god was here, with her, sitting on _her couch, _eating _her food, _and watching _her_ _television_.

No, Hermione wasn't all that possessive of these things, but it was that fact that he kept claiming to be a _god _from_ Norse Mythology. _

Two weeks ago, during her frantic run to get home before a nasty thunder storm set in, this idiot had fallen out of the sky_—_or off a broomstick that was still to be decided—and landed in the shrubs outside her neighbor's house.

Now, Hermione wasn't the type to just take fallen Quidditch players in, or anyone unknown entity in general, but she could practically _feel _the magic waving off of him, and it was a night her parents weren't home. Also, she highly doubted she could explain to Mrs. Dubose why a strange man was unconscious in her shrubs—that woman blamed her for everything, especially since the tea accident when she was eleven—and her perfect summer _did not _include being spied on by an eighty-plus year old woman.

So she'd dragged him out of the bushes and forced him to half-walk to her house and under the awning where the rain couldn't touch them. Once he'd relaxed back into her porch swing, she'd let the avalanche of questions fall from her mouth in an attempt to make sense out of his sudden appearance while he was still conscious.

His unearthly, green eyes fixed on her and she nearly recoiled.

He looked at her oddly and asked where he was and if she was a sorceress.

Hermione's nose had crinkled. _Sorceress?_

She'd only ever heard that one from her dad when he joked with her about school. "Are you a wizard?" She'd asked. Curious to know if he was a Hogwarts student or not, he did look to be around her age, if not a little older.

"You could say that, I suppose. Albeit master of magic is a more suiting title." He rubbed his temples in smooth circles. "Is that what they call magic wielders on Midgard? Wizards? What do they call you then?" Hermione cocked a brow at him.

"I'm a witch."

He smiled.

"That's lovely." His voice was dripping sarcasm. "What's your name, witch?"

She realized his hint then and winced. "Hermione Granger," she said slowly like he had brain damage. "What's yours?"

"I am Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief."

That statement alone let her know she should have left him in the rain in brave Mrs. Dubose's frying pan of doom.

* * *

It may be the immense amounts of coffee and migraine pills talking, but Hermione decided if she had to refer to Loki as an animal, he'd be a puppy.

Yes, an irate and scrutinizing, yet fluffy little puppy with a constant need of attention and a hankering for biting at her heels and leaving messes in his wake for her to clean up.

And true to the nature of a puppy, Loki had taken a shine to following her around, much to her annoyance. She spent a few hours at her local library flipping through mythology books to find this God of Mischief and Lies he claimed to be.

It wasn't uncommon for parents to name their children after characters in mythology or otherwise thinking themselves so clever—her own parents, even without magic, had named her after the daughter of Helen of Troy—and she distinctly recalled and girl named _Lavender_ at her school and_ Draco_ was a far from normal name. His parents could have simply named him after a Norse god and he'd taken it a step too far. Or he could be lying. Or brain damage was still a pliable option.

Either accusation worked.

When she did, however, find the chapter on Loki she had smiled, turned the book about face toward him and pointed to the colorful context with a "Ha!" of triumph.

To which he grandly replied, looking rather bored in the midst of his Greek Mythology book with his chin tucked onto one fist. "Who drew that god awful picture of me? It should be burned."

To which she replied with her head against the wooden table.

* * *

Loki's tendency of showing up at her house wasn't much better. Though he had the ridiculous habit to stay at her house when her parents were running late with work and stay in her living room late into the night, sitting in her father's favorite reading chair watching _Doctor Who_, while she'd always fall asleep on the couch with her book. He always 'returned' to the house, waking her up with the sound of him knocking on the door and greeting her mum at seven o' clock _every morning_.

She'd had to bite her tongue on more than one occasion to keep from growling at him in front of her mother.

Her mum had sat her down one evening after Loki 'left' and asked her outright if they needed to have 'the talk' again. Loki had spent the rest of the night rolling on the floor—well, only because she'd shoved him off her bed—laughing until she forced herself to get some sleep.

Could this summer get any worse? She doubted it.

* * *

In an inane attempt to prove to her that he was a god, Loki had spirited her away for the afternoon into the heart of London. More particularly, to a library. In which Hermione made a mental note to look up more forms of travel without floo powder. However, now she just felt like enjoying herself and used the list in the back of her mind to search for books she wanted to bring home for further reference to her self-inflicted summer projects. "What are you doing?" Loki asked as Hermione began her climb of the great wooden ladder to the upper selves.

"What does it look like? I'm climbing up to get to that book." Hermione said determination setting in she climbed higher.

"Why do you waste your time when you can use magic?" He asked and, with a snap of his fingers, the very book she'd been after slid from its place and levitated down to him, teasingly just out of her reach. Hermione glowered down at him.

It was a question he'd often asked and she often answered.

"I can't do that outside of school." She said stiffly. "You know that." He had to know that.

"Oh, I'm sure." Loki laughed, it was a carefree sound that Hermione was sure would send a librarian whirling around the corner to shush him, but none did. _Of course, _she thought and, still glaring, began her decent to the ladder and stopped before the second step so she was at eye-level with the claimed-to-be god. "What is it, Lady Granger?" He asked, a Cheshire smile curling at his lips.

"Nothing, just thinking," she quipped and snatched the book from his hands, making her way towards the check-out desks out of the labyrinths of books. Loki, with longer legs than hers, matched her stride in three easy steps, carrying a pile of books she's left behind on purpose for him.

"You could just be a pesky seventh year playing a prank on me," she said almost to herself as she set her books on the librarian's desk and turned to him, almost jumping back when she realized how closely he'd been following her. His emerald eyes shone brightly.

"You keep saying 'seventh year' and 'fourth year'. What does that mean?" He asked as he set down her other books.

Hermione opened her mouth to retort.

"May I see your card, please?" The elderly librarian held out her hand and Hermione realized she didn't have a card to this library. She could almost smack herself, being so excited to be here, taking all this time to check out a book when she didn't even have a card to check it out with! When had she gotten so dim-witted?!

"Here," Loki pulled a card out of his pocket and slid it across the granite desk towards the woman. She scanned it and handed it back to Hermione with a receipt and the books.

Hermione was about to pass Loki back his card, but then caught the name on it.

Her name.

She glanced up at Loki and then back to the card questioningly.

"I do enjoy pranks, but this isn't a particularly good venue, now is it?" He gave his infectious smile and Hermione flushed, handing him back the card and grabbing the books off the desk.

"You could have just called beforehand to have one made." And then she turned to leave.

* * *

Loki, however crazy, rude and subsequently stubborn, wasn't half bad company to be in. He was intelligent, maybe even more so than her, and could carry a conversation on any topic not including muggle-made items fairly well, he was well-read on anything revolving around Norse legends and Vikings, and quite talented with effortless magic.

For him, as he explained, magic came from within and was somewhat scientifically logical. Her magic, and the usage of her wand, was a fascinating discovery for him. She'd spent a little while explaining to him the exact function, procedure, and spells for her wand before stopping herself and growling at him for pretending like he didn't know.

He'd spent an hour waving around her wand, but received no results to Hermione's surprise.

He had the look of someone who uses magic, she realized. He looked oddly out of place in any modern setting.

For example, here, at an urban coffee shop in downtown London, Hermione was reading a fiction novel titled _Cirque du Freak _while Loki stirred his white mocha latte in a ceramic green mug and he looked so natural yet odd that she had to keep glancing at him to insure that he was there.

Peeking out from behind her book, Hermione stared over at him.

Loki was good-looking; there was no doubt about that. He was tall and lean, but not by any means physically weak. He was pale too, contrasting smoothly with his slicked back dark hair. He had aristocratic features and a sovereign nose that to he looked down at people from with his icy emerald eyes. From that alone she was sure he'd be a Slytherin like Draco Malfoy.

And, aside from the unusual armor he was wearing when they met, he knew how to dress himself. Today he'd conjured an outfit from one of her mother's catalog magazines: soft dark jeans that were so blue they looked black and a green shirt that rivaled his eyes with a suit jacket to go over it. A bit dressy, yet casual.

Her eyes narrowed. _Very Slytherin. _

The silence was comfortable between them; they didn't really need to talk while in each other's presence. With the background noise of some Indie band and the quiet chatter of a few other patrons, she felt . . . at ease? At peace? No . . . content with a touch of curiosity.

"See something of interest, Lady Granger?" A deliberately slow smile spread across his face and he looked up at her like a proud dog that had just cornered a cat.

_Oh, my God. _Hermione snapped her book shut and shoved—carefully tucked—her book away into her bag, eyes never leaving his.

Loki's eyes narrowed playfully and his mouth made a small _o _of surprise. "Ooh, something witchy this way comes." He cackled at his own joke and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh, shut up Lord McDeath, I'm getting tired of this."

"Tired of what?" Loki asked still smiling and daintily stirring the piping hot coffee in his mug.

"_This_," she hissed stabbing a finger at him to make her point. "This Asgardian prince, God of Mischief, Loki and other magical crap. You're driving me _insane. _You speak like you escaped from the pages of a Shakespearian play and you dress like a movie star incognito. You refer to muggles as mortals, and though they aren't a far stretch form concept, it's still rude. Then you go off claiming to come from a 'Rainbow Bridge' and Asgard and being the brother of Thor. You have a British accent! I can't even . . . I mean—damnit!—I told you to call me Hermione!" The childish rambling of her frustration left her before she could stop it.

Loki stared at her for a long moment.

And laughed.

"Oh, _Hermione,_" his slight British accent dripping like honey from the syllables of her name, making her flush red at the cheeks and her heart skitter and hop a few steps. "You are entertaining."

His smiles made her blush harder, the bright gleam of his evergreen eyes. Nothing could match that uniquely icy color.

She waited for his little fit to calm down, staring at him with mild fascination and horror as he looked like he might start slapping his hand on the table or stomping his feet. People had already turned their heads to stare, but quickly diverted their gazes and whispered behind their hands.

Her flushed cheeks and bushy hair paired with his insane laughter and flying hands. They were a _Cirque du Freak _indeed.

* * *

Although travel through the 'backdoor of the realms' Loki had used to take them to London would have been the faster way of getting home, Hermione had demanded they take the subway for the simple fact that traveling Loki's way included her clutching on to him for dear life while she screamed her head off and he held her too securely to be proper.

And it was fun watching how Loki teetered and tottered on the ride with a death grip of his own on the leather strap on the ceiling of the subway car; though it was not funny when his free hand was constantly brushing against hers and causing her heart to pound into her chest.

She decided to switch hands after a while, which Loki took interest in.

"Is your arm getting tired?"

"No." _All the blood is rushing out of it. _It wasn't a complete lie.

Looking around the train cart of mostly sitting passengers Loki turned to her again. "Shouldn't we sit down, Lady Hermione? The journey by this beast is an estimate of an hour."

Hermione shrugged, trying to stay blasé to the fact that he _kept saying her name every other sentence _just to annoy her.

"_You_ can, if you want to."

Loki sighed heavily and released the tether from his grasp just as the train turned a particularly hard corner and he when sprawling back, grabbing onto her shoulder for support, and resulting in them going plunging backward onto the subway benches. Her, a little or less, sitting on his lap. Flushing madly at this fact, she nearly had a heart attack when Loki's hands touched her waist and slid her over into the chair beside his, choosing to be a gentleman rather than a creeper.

Hands linger over hers a little longer than necessary.

"Thanks a lot." She grumbled and he only smiled.

"It was my pleasure, _Hermione_."

* * *

Hermione had been able to hail a taxi and force her two cents in for paying the cab driver instead of Loki with his seemingly endless deep pockets—for all she knew it was stolen or some wizardly form of counterfeit, she wasn't sure. Besides, she was already on a roll from buying him coffee earlier and kicking his 'man pays for everything' notion in the face. Sadly, she only had enough money to get them ten blocks away from her house, and warned Loki about saying anything as they were booted out and continued the journey on foot.

Her parents were home and had left the porch light on for her instead of calling her mobile. Probably thinking she was out at the library or at her favorite café, not running around London with a strange man claiming to be a god.

As they walked down the twilight lit streets, past the familiar parks and childish memories that flourished from the well-kept gardens and the stylish Victorian lawn furniture, Hermione felt some unearthly presence in the familiarity of her street's eloquent beauty. A strange light seemed to glow from everything, bathing the world around her an ethereal gold.

Hermione looked up, finding Loki with his palm to the sky and a sly smile across his devilish mouth.

"This reminds me home," he said softly.

For a wild moment, the genuine earnestness in his voice made her stop.

"Then why don't you go back there?" she grumbled.

Loki smiled and hummed to himself a song she couldn't place. Sighing she continued up the walk to her door, inwardly warring with herself on whether to let him in or not since her parents were home and she didn't feel like answering questions she still didn't know the answers to, and by the rustling of the curtains in the far window from the living room she could tell they were watching already.

She was shocked when Loki stopped on her doormat, hands in the pockets of his jeans, looking oddly more handsome with a reserved smile that didn't eat up half of his face. Still it was a secretive smile, the turn of his lips and the gleam of his eyes clashed too harshly for it to be innocent.

"Well this was fun."

The transparently innocent comment made her heart plunge into her stomach. _What? _She wondered. Him standing there, on her porch, smiling at her like they'd just gotten back from a date. What's next? Was he going to snog her too?

"We should venture out like this again tomorrow."

Hermione didn't answer, but Loki didn't really need it. He did whatever he wanted with literally no consolation as to how it would and/or could affect her.

He took a step advancing into her personal space and Hermione's hand clenched into a fist, thinking he'd take it to kiss, like he had on many occasions for a brief recess of her company only to return with ten-fold new plans shoved up his designer sleeves.

But he surprised her again by leaning forward and delicately placing a kiss to her cheek, his long fingered hand touching the curve of her cheek to her ear. His lips were surprisingly warm against her skin, thin but not too thin.

When he pulled back, his fingers untwined themselves from a lock of her flaxen brown hair and smile in something akin to victory.

"Farwell, Lady Hermione."

And then he turned and walked down the steps of her porch, down the stone path and down the block. Her eyes widened in shock as he continued his careless stroll down past the hedges and down the street like nothing had even happened.

Had he really just done that? Seriously?

She touched her cheek, feeling the lingering warmth of his lips had faded from the burning of her skin.

_Damn Loki._

* * *

**I couldn't help it! T~T **

**Tom made me do it! Blame him for his sexy British actor appeal! Darn you Brit's and your accents too!**

**Anyway, most crossover stories are usually fairly well written, infinitely researched and carefully planned out or completely fly off the handle in all different directions. I think this is a happy medium because I can't write anything without my twisted sense of humor -or the fangirl mental image of young, my age, Tom Hiddleston smiling like he adores me. Oh~ . . . I need to get a grip, I've never gone on fansites before, but I have for this man. I've seen his new movie twice and bought _Thor _yesterday.**

**Yes, I snuck in Mrs. Dubose. If you know what book of classic literature she's from tell me in your review.**

**There are a few very good videos on YouTube for this couple, to get the feel of it, I'd watch the one titled ' "Touching her neck, her soft flesh" ' by barbarellapsaro. It has audio from the audiobook _The Red Necklace _which Tom _reads_! Both could be found on YouTube.**

**Tell me what you want to see here,**

**~QueenVamp**


	2. the man of reason

**Title: **Magic and Myth  
**Song: **Myspace Girl by The Afters  
**Rating: **T for language and future chapters  
**Genre: **Humor, Angst, Romance  
**Fandom: **_Thor _and _Harry Potter  
_**Couple: **Loki/Hermione  
**Inspiration: **'By My Side' by **Blinded-Kit**

**Warnings: **Pre-Thor, teenager!Loki, haggard appearances, first attempts at cooking, Loki's love for the color green, dangerous questions, _Twilight _reference, feel good moments, implying things, Mrs. Dubose, owls, unfair pillow fights

* * *

Loki had been offhandedly avoided the Granger house for a few days to which Hermione deemed smart considering she was sure she'd throttle him if he came within two yards of her.

That is, if her parents didn't get to him first. Then he'd be cushioned from her wrath with coddling and compliments and welcomed into the family. Oh, yes, since her parents caught Loki's _kiss to her cheek _she'd been holding her breath and counting back from ten.

"Who is he?"

"Where did you meet him?"

"Is he a friend from your school?"

"How long have you two been dating?"

She answered accordingly. "Loki. Outside the house. I think. And no, we're not dating."

Her mum and dad put their heads together and giggled to themselves and started to, jokingly, talk up plans for a wedding.

* * *

Day Three of a Loki-free World: Hermione had been on her way downstairs, sleepily rubbing her eyes and stretching her arms up over her head, unknowingly hiking up the bottom of the green Irish sweatshirt and fluffing out her bush of unbrushed hair still tangled from sleep.

It's been three days, she was Loki free and she was going to enjoy a quiet day of—

"Good morning, Lady Hermione."

—denied.

Hermione's head whipped back so fast she thought she'd get whiplash.

There he was like a beacon of hell reclining back in her father's chair with a cynical smile.

"Wha—?" She nearly tumbled down the last step, but caught the banister in time. Steadying herself she tried again. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?!" Mentally, Hermione mourned the fact that she'd just said Ron's favorite catch phrase, but quickly forgave herself and set her glare on the intruder.

Loki smiled. "Well, couldn't stay away too long," His evergreen eyes held hers and he replicated a look of innocence. "You might start missing me."

"Why would I—?" Suddenly Hermione's hands grasped the helm of her hoodie and pulled it down, Loki's eyes returned to her face. "Pervert."

"You're the one who walked downstairs this morning looking so . . ." He stared at her, eyes roving in a way that made her blush. He really seemed to be searching for a word though. His wrist twisted in midair and he looked about to snap his fingers to summon the thought, when he found the word. ". . . _disheveled_."

"Gee, thanks." Hermione picked at her wrist for a hair tie and quickly styled her hair back into a bun at the top of her head like any other teenage girl would have done. Well, most of them would have run upstairs screaming for the police by now. "Now, what do you want?"

"My body is weak, it needs sustenance." Loki stood and strolled towards her, quickly catching her wrist in one of his spider-fingered hands. "Or as you humans say: I'm hungry, let's make food." He tugged her down the last step and nudged her to stand in front of him.

"Food? What?" Loki took her shoulder, turned her to face away from him and gently pushed her by the shoulders into the kitchen area that was bright from the many opened windows. What she had planned on avoiding so early.

"The morning meal," Loki explained. "I know you humans partake in it, yet I know not how to use these contraptions nor am I accustomed to making my own food. You are definitely not prepared to face the public eye yet the morning—you'll have to prepare the meal."

"Hey!" Hermione barked, trying to turn to glare at Loki, his nose brushed her ear.

"By the way, Hermione, I believe green is _my _color."

* * *

Pancake batter. Everywhere.

That was the only way to describe this mess.

Hermione and Loki sat on the floor in front of the kitchen island, which had been their only shield from the flying blueberry filled goo. It had finally shut off, for whatever reason, probably Loki's spell, and Hermione would only stare at her kitchen in horror at the batter dripping from the ceiling, walls and counter top.

"My parents are going to kill me." She moaned, falling back against the cabinet of the kitchen island. Loki side glanced her curiously and quirked a brow.

"Parents on Midgard murder their own children for making messes? And you call _my _realm savage."

"It is a figure of speech." Hermione growled into her palms, moving her fingers to glare at him. "They're not going to kill me, they'll just be very mad."

"Then why didn't you just say so?"

". . . this is all your fault." Hermione blurted.

"I beg your pardon?" Loki's smooth, batter splotched face crinkled.

Hermione smiled a little and pointed at him accusingly. "_You _had to press the button, didn't you? You couldn't wait until _I _explained how to use the electronic whisk, couldn't you?"

Loki's mouth opened and closed like a fish. Hermione smiled in triumph.

Hermione: 1

Loki: 23

"Well . . . I do not know how to use these Midgardian contraptions. I made that fairly clear." He spat and glared detestingly back at the cause of this mess. "It looks like some twisted device of torture."

Hermione inwardly pace-palmed herself repeatedly. "You can say muggle, you know."

"This again?" Loki sighed, head falling into his fist. "Can you not just accept I'm from a different realm?"

"Nope." Hermione answered curtly and crossed her arms over her chest. She refused to believe a word of the seventh year's outrageous story of being the son of some Viking deity she'd read about in the mythology books at the library. His magic was advanced, but there were still many things about the magical world Hermione didn't know yet. His travel spells without port keys or floo powder could be a charm of sorts or the way he used magic without a wand . . . well, it was common to see when a witch or wizard was young, or when their emotions got the better of them, or if they were true masters.

In her mind, Hermione was still troubled over the last part herself.

"Tell me," Loki's smooth voice called her back, pulling her as if she were bound by rope. "Though you've told me 'a hundred times', what is your world full of?"

"Magic." She answered quickly.

"And, what sort of magic? White magic? Black magic? Can you use teleportation spells?"

". . .yes." Then she added. "And there are paintings that talk, staircases that move, trees that attack, beasts that come from story books, and ghosts."

"Ghosts. Afterlife. We call Valhalla, you call it Heaven. Other realms. Is it really that hard to accept?"

"Yes . . ."

"Why are you so hesitant to believe me?"

"Because you're crazy. . ."

He scoffed at her and his brows knitted. "I, Lady Granger, am not crazy. I am simply pleasantly mad." Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "From my observation, my skills differ greatly from yours. I am different."

"Believe me, I know that. . ." Hermione droned, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. "What makes you so different?"

"I'll live a long time."

"What are you Edward Cullen?"

"Whom is this Edward fellow you keep mentioning?"

"Nothing! No one! So—live long time? That'll take too long to prove."

"My wounds heal fairly quickly." He offered.

"So does a wizard's."

"With spells."

"Which you can do _without _a wand or voiced spell, as you've so proudly proved, hundreds of times already."

"Hmm," Loki ran a finger over his bottom lip in thought. "Fatal injuries."

"Jump off a cliff."

"I'm not immortal. I have longevity, I can still be killed."

"Fine . . . Stab yourself."

He laughed. "Isn't the fact that I'm _willing _to hurt myself enough?"

"Maybe . . ." He did have a point. "Alright, so let's say you _are _Loki—shut up, let me finish—it says in your book that you can cloak yourself and your magic."

"I can."

"Are you using one now?"

He gave her a look. "Why do you think no one has dragged me home yet? If Heimdall saw me, the Allfather would already have me back in Asgard by now."

Hermione racked her brain for the names.

Heimdall = Gatekeeper = all seeing, all knowing.

Allfather = Odin = Loki's father.

Asgard = Realm Eternal = Loki's home

_Okay . . ._

"True . . . but could you use it on other things?"

"Depends on what you're implying, Lady Hermione." He purred mischievously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Magic. I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school because I'm too young. When you're a seventh year, seventeen at least, you have free range to use as much magic as you want. If I do use magic now the Ministry can expel me from school."

"Why is everyone on Midgard so quick to give punishments? It's mockery of the place it was when I first visited." Loki trailed off, and smiled in realization. "You want me to cloak your magic so this 'Ministry' won't know your using it?"

Hermione stared. If he really could do that she could zap the pancake batter gone, fix her clothes (and possibly Loki's), have her hair cleaned and be ready for the day in a matter of seconds. The thought was tempting, but . . .

"Noooo." She stood. "I want you to clean up this mess while I take a shower and we'll go _out _for breakfast . . . and keep a cloak on it."

Lucky for her, he did what she asked.

* * *

Hermione never thought she'd be so forward as to invite a boy into her room—especially when her parents were away at work—but Loki . . . well, was Loki so he didn't really count. Moreover, he'd already paid visits to her room without her permission before.

This time, however, he seemed a little reluctant to her demand.

"Hermione,"—did he just _whine_?—"Why?"

"Because I need to fix the mess you left my bookshelf in when you decided I was your personal library." Now it was Hermione's turn to shove the reluctant teen up the stairs and into her powder blue bedroom.

Loki smiled in mocking innocence. "I would do no such thing."

"Riiiight," Hermione gave a final shove at Loki's back. "Okay, so you sit here . . ." She nudged him over to her bed and then turned back to her bookshelf that was once jam-packed with books, now had place spaces where the stolen books had once been. "Look! See you stole some!"

"I believe the term you earlier used was 'borrowed', Lady Granger." Loki said, easing down onto her bed, it fell under his weight and his elbows rested on his knees. "Don't be a hypocrite; it is rather unbecoming of your character."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her back to him to continue rearranging her bookshelf.

"Why are your quarters always a mess?" Loki asked, sprawling like a cat across her unmade bed. "Do you not have any servants to clean it for you?"

Hermione's eyebrow twitched. Of course, the one day she decides to relax and leave her bed unmade, Loki has to comment on it.

"No, some of us have to clean our own rooms." She answered with as little malice as possible.

"Really? Magic wielders aren't held in high regard on Midgard?" He asked, threading the strings of her baby blanket through his fingers thoughtfully, picking apart each individual string, taking great care in unknotting them.

"Some are."

"Who?"

Oh, did he really have to ask?

She gave a particularly hard slam of Shakespeare's _The Winter's Tale _into the shelves between _The Taming of the Shrewd _and _Romeo and Juliet. _Loki had shanghaied her copies of _Hamlet _and _Henry V _and was refusing to tell her where he hid them. He promised she'd find them eventually.

Why'd her parents give her so many Shakespeare works anyway? Is it some British stereotype they have to follow?

Turning around on the wooden floor to face him, her hands grasped her knees trying to feel like she was holding onto something unmoving and not talking about something that struck home. "You know," she began. "You told me yourself that you couldn't sense any magic from my parents?"

Loki nodded slowly. He hated her giving him recaps.

"Well, to most wizards that's highly unlikely. I'm what the stuck-up, silver-spoon-in-their-mouth, 'pureblood' wizards with rich lifestyles and aristocracy call a 'Mudblood' because I have magic and my parents don't. It gives me immediate second-class citizen status just because of who my parents are."

Loki stared.

And stared.

He could hear the bitterness in her voice, the anger. How much she hated the name and how those Pureblood Slytherins threw it around so casually and whispered it behind the backs of their hands and wrote it on unkind notes. Etching it into her memory. Carving it into her memory.

"If it's any consolation, I don't think there's anything wrong with your blood."

Hermione stared ahead unseeing.

No one had ever said that. Just told her to disregard the truth behind the remark. So she was a Mudblood, so what? The comment barely bothered her anymore, if anything it made her angry, but everyone felt as though they should dance around the truth and tell her she wasn't what she was. That's where she started warring with herself on her borderline of acceptance and disregard with the topic.

Didn't that just make her more accomplished? She had the best grades in her class and read more books than any of those stuck up 'purebloods' in all their 'glory'. Treating her like a disease was second nature to them.

But still, Loki outright thought nothing was wrong with her.

That's all she wanted.

". . . thank you . . ."

* * *

Hermione's favorite part of summer was always getting letters and postcards from her friends and family, staying in touch was important and the boys promised her that they'd all get together before the new term started. That was a letter she was anxiously awaiting.

Loki had been mildly amused to find owls circling her house with letters clutched in their talons when they just arrived back from another trip to London—Hermione, admittedly broke, allowed Loki to use whatever form of magic he had to get them there and back safely.

"Those birds deliver your letters?" Loki asked.

"Uh-huh, the white one is Harry's her name's Hedwig and the dark one is—"

She was cut off by an appalling shriek from the house they were passing.

Mrs. Dubose.

"You wretched girl!" The screen door of the elder woman's house flew open, slamming against the wall and nearly flying off the hinges. The wizened woman marched forward, grabbing tightly to the railing of her porch and then stabbing a finger up at the sky around Hermione's house. "What have you done now!? What sorcery is this!?"

Loki gave Hermione a small smile. "I told you people still use the word sorcery."

"Oh, shut up." She snapped back.

"_Don't ignore me you impolite little rodent_!"

"Good evening, Mrs. Dubose." Loki waved animatedly with a fake smile plastered on his face.

The old woman blotched. "You bimbo bird! It's afternoon! You say 'good afternoon'!"

"'Bimbo bird'?" Loki whispered to Hermione.

"No idea . . . its seven-thirty, Mrs. Dubose!" Hermione shouted back.

"Don't sass me, you jezebel. Get rid of those birds before I call animal control!"

"J—jezebel?" Hermione blushed and power-walked down the block and into her house, taking the stairs two at a time and stomped into her bedroom, all the while muttering to herself, "I can't believe that old bat called me a jezebel!"

"What's a jezebel?" Loki asked.

"Don't talk to me!" Hermione hissed, angrily grabbing a bag of owl treats Mrs. Weasley had given to her previous to the summer.

Hermione yanked opened her window to usher in Harry and Ron's owls and allowed them to perch on her bed frame.

* * *

Twenty minutes later she'd given them a snack and replies to their master's letters before sending them away again.

"Who's Ronald Weasley?"

She knew it! He could stay out of her things for two seconds!

"He's—" She turned, finding Loki sitting on her bed with her letters from her friends spread out around him. In his hands was one of Ron's letters to her, she could tell by the withered at the edges and had indents in the paper from where his owl's talons had dug too deeply into the paper.

In three quick steps, she was across the room and snagged the letter from his hand.

"You can't read that . . . it's . . . it's a Federal Offense!"

The look of shock crossed his features and then a slow smile. "Too bad I'm of your world." His fingers grazed across the eggshell white envelopes that were slipping out letters across her fluffy blue bedspread. "You're petty little mortal laws do not affect me." He seemed to singsong this.

"You—!"

"I must ask again, whom is Ronald Weasley?"

"A friend of mine," she growled. "One of my best friends, from Hogwarts."

Suddenly she had an idea.

"Just a friend? Huh?" Loki asked with a sly smile.

Hermione made a face at him and grabbed a box of letters off the bed and, after a little rummaging, managed to find the single moving picture she, Ron and Harry had taken last year in the infirmary before he'd gotten his cast taken off. "The redhead's Ron."

She carefully watched Loki's face for a reaction when his eyes set on Harry. None.

Even the stony Professor Snape—and every other bland to emotion person at Hogwarts—had reacted to seeing Harry. Loki, as it seem, truly didn't know his face. "And that's my other friend Harry Potter."

At this a slow smile spread over Loki's face.

"Both your friends are male? Oh, Hermione how scandalous."

She whipped him in the head with a pillow.

He was incorrigible.

* * *

**I need help figuring out how Hermione will believe Loki's a God! Help!**

**And if you read the books and you have a favorite scene from book four let me know!**

**THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! This story was more of a success than I hoped! I hope you continue to give me feedback!**

**I love Loki when he's a jackass! And Hermione's reactions when she saw him in the beginning. That's how I look _every morning. _Uh-huh, this *gestures to self* takes _work. _Speaking of work I finally got my job at the candy counter in a hotel and I've been doing extensive work outs with my ex-cheerleader best friend because it just makes everything in my life a whole lot better if people can say that girl that works at the candy counter is skinny. XD**

**Happy Frigga's Day! Friday = Frigga. Thor and Loki's 'mother'. Yeah, I wanted to update on Thor's Day (Thursday) but I effed up.**

**Bimbo Bird= 1920s slang. Bimbo meaning "tough guy" and bird meaning "odd". It works, just go with what the Mockingbird woman says. And yes, Mrs. Dubose is from **_To Kill a Mockingbird _**which I loved!**

**-Song- I was thinking of the Mudblood comment and the songs "Use Somebody" and "A Team" popped into my head so I used them and when you think about it, yes Hermione could really use a sarcastic bastard like Loki -sorry Draco, love you~!**

**Tell me what you want to see here,**

**~QueenVamp**


	3. evergreen dog

**Title: **Magic and Myth  
**Song: **Myspace Girl by The Afters  
**Rating: **T for language and future chapters  
**Genre: **Humor, Angst, Romance  
**Fandom: **_Thor _and _Harry Potter  
_**Couple: **Loki/Hermione  
**Inspiration: **'By My Side' by **Blinded-Kit**

**Warnings: **Pre-Thor, teenager!Loki, trickery, cars, stupid drivers, green magic, bookstores, vampire fangirls, running between library stacks, family talk, Crookshanks, Loki's son/pet Fenrir, and Loki's _Son of the Mask _depiction

* * *

_"That mans a snitch and unpredictable_

_He's got no conscience, he got none_

_(none, none, none)"_

_—_"Criminal" by Britney Spears

* * *

Loki was on a roll today, Hermione realized.

Right out of the gate this morning, through the sun filled streets he was tampering with car alarms and street signs as if it were for sport. Hermione could only watch with mild horror and fascination as Loki, with a snap of his fingers, undressed mannequins in shop windows and turned green lights red.

"Well, you're in a mood today." She commented dryly, arms crossed over her chest, raising a critical brow at the dark-haired sorcerer beside her. He walked with his usual dignified swagger that gave off the regal message of 'you've better run as fast as you can'—Hermione, however, wasn't easy scared off after having seen him stumble and flail around her kitchen after her father waxed the floors.

"Am I?" Loki inquired with a smug smile tugging at his lips. "I haven't noticed."

His icy emerald gaze swept the busy streets for another specimen for his next prank, but Hermione caught his arm and jarred him to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Stop it, Loki." She hissed lowly, careful about the people around her who'd had their eyes on the snickering tall boy and her. "They're not here for your entertainment."

Loki's lower lip jutted out slightly in a feigning attempt to look innocent. "Aw, but I just love to see their reactions when something in their perfectly constructed society goes amiss. Look at them? So scared." Loki pouted and Hermione rolled her eyes and moaned irritably.

Glancing across the cross-walk she let go of Loki's arm.

"Whatever. Just . . . don't make it so obvious." Stepping down from the sidewalk in the hot asphalt, Hermione began her journey across, mind swirling with Loki-filled thoughts that were abruptly dejected when a loud car honk pulled her out of her thoughts.

A car was heading full throttle for her.

She was standing in the center of the cross-walk, she could either jump back or continue going. But for some stupid reason—like every other girl in a movie—she just stood there like a deer in headlights, eyes round, mouth gaping and _not moving. _

She felt a spark around her, pulling hard at her arms as if they were hands. But they weren't.

If she'd of blinked she would have missed it: a rivulet of green _magic _emanated from her upper arms and yanked her back into a hard chest, and she reeled to catch her breath.

The vehicle jarred to a stop in the center of the intersection, only to get smashed into by another car.

"Huh," Hermione looked shakily up at Loki who was watching the wreckage with an enthralled expression as he studied the accordion scrunched vehicles. "Now I'm not quite sure, but I don't think I had anything to do with that."

Adrenaline wore off and Hermione began to shake, but managed a half-hearted: "shut up" but leant heavily against Loki's frame as he amble her over to the other side of the street. Ignoring the many other staring patrons who were asking themselves how she'd managed to get back onto the sidewalk so fast.

* * *

Loki talked about himself rarely—she supposed it was because he didn't really _know _her all that well—and when he did Hermione later had to reread her Norse mythology books to remember each name he mentioned so she could follow along without much difficulty.

Currently, she and Loki were skimming the section of mythology trying to find an appropriate book for her to follow along to, dog-ear, and bookmark all her own. Loki kept sending wary glances around the corner of the wooden bookshelves over to a pack of teenage girls in the young adults section giggling and sighing over their vampiric literature—all of which had stared at Loki like he was a god whence he entered the bookstore.

No pun intended.

"Those little imps keep staring at me." Loki grumbled.

Hermione smirked, looking up from the book in her hands. "What's the matter? Is the O' Mighty Loki not use to pubescent female attentions?"

His expression was caught between a pale-faced sweat drop and irritation. "Did you not read _any _of those books? I do not habitually dabble in the wooing of maidens." He growled and glanced back at the girls again—sending them into a shrill of giggles—and then made a face.

"And it shows." Hermione murmured, turning a quick corner around the bookshelf to escape Loki's, albeit delayed, reaction.

He gave chase and she choked on silent laughter.

* * *

"You really do love books, don't you, Lady Hermione?" Loki inquired some time later. After finally chasing her down and capturing her, he'd mercifully decided to let her go and the two sat on the ground, between the shelves adjacent to each other, to talk and read.

Hermione simply nodded, skimming the margins of her book, then glancing up to meet his icy emerald gaze. He smiled—the same wicked smile as before—but Hermione couldn't help but note how although sitting on the ground, he didn't allow his self-important posture to waver.

Forever the prince.

He looked up to the hundreds of books simply above his head. "My brother would never appreciate this."

"Really? Neither would my friends." She joked, but she knew it was true. She was one of the very few who'd ever gone to the library for studying or reading alone—except the Ravenclaw kids but they hardly counted. She was singlehandedly determined to absorb all the knowledge her school had to offer. After spending so long in the world where magic didn't exist and all scientific phenomenon had been spluttered, she was happy to broaden her horizon of study.

His gaze lowered on her. "Do you not have siblings?"

"No, in case you haven't noticed, I'm an only child."

"Lucky you." He smirked.

"Sounds like you don't think much of your brother." Hermione mumbled and immediately regretted it when a dark look flashed in the depths of his evergreen eyes. Suddenly he didn't look like a mischievous cheeky teenage boy; he looked every bit as much as an imposing warrior he claimed to be, pinning her to the bookshelf with his gaze.

"I do," he said, more like huffed, almost speaking under his breath. "I think very much of Thor, but unlike certain parties I am not blind to his faults, and the great many there are."

She watched him stand and walk a little ways out from between the shelves—careful not to be seen by the girls—and entered the Viking literature section, whilst Hermione thumbed through the index to find this 'Thor' character.

* * *

When Crookshanks finally started to come out of his shell more about Loki always being at the house, the cat had made it blindingly clear that there was no one in this world he liked other than Hermione.

On more than one occasion, Hermione witnessed Loki and the animal going toe-to-toe in a hissing/sizing up match over her father's chair in the den. Whilst Loki swatted for the cat to move, her Persian-Kneazle mix clawed at him with his perfectly filed talons, hissing and puffing up like a furry bomb ready to explode.

Hermione arrived just in time to stop the fight—shoving a bowl of popcorn into Loki's gut and cuddling her fur ball into her arms—and promptly taking the seat Loki had been fighting for, forcing him to sit on the couch. "I don't understand why you keep that little monster around. He isn't very amiable." Loki wondered aloud.

"Really? I'm always thinking the same about you." Hermione snapped back, fluffing the fur of her red-orange companion affectionately.

Crookshanks made odd noises, and revolted most people with his puggish face, but he was a loyal cat with lots of love—for her—and just the best pet she could ask for.

Loki made a retort she didn't care about and then asked: "Don't you have a pet?"

Loki paused. "I do, a Hel puppy named Fenrir."

Hermione stared at him. "A Hel puppy? You mean a Hellhound?"

_Of course, _she rolled her eyes inwardly. _Slytherin brats always have the best pets._

As if hearing her, Crookshanks glared up at his mistress threateningly and Hermione continued to scratch behind his ears and rub his back, making him purr happily again.

"Something like that. He's like a son to me."

Hermione stared at him a long moment until the movie started.

* * *

Hermione bit her lips together, watching for Loki's impending reaction when—

On the TV screen a darkly dressed, wild-haired Alan Cumming appeared with modern-ish clothes and color tinted sunglasses.

—Loki's jaw tightened and his brows knitted.

"How _dare _those _Warner Brothers _do that to _me_?!" He near shrieked at the television version of himself in _Son if the_ _Mask. _"I will have them begging for their lives on a pike!"

Hermione nearly keeled over laughing.

* * *

**THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS~!**

**I'm sorry this is a little late, and not much happens, but Loki meets the parent's next chapter and Hermione gets a letter from Ron and Harry for the Quidditch match. Which Loki will be making more than one appearance at?**

**Fenrir is Loki's pet in the comics but in mythology he's his son, obviously Hermione read that. XD**

**I was watching _The Mask _the other day—a month ago—and I got the idea, I'm surprised I remember.**

**-Song- Loki is a bit of a criminal, not really here, now, but soon. And 'Never Let You Go' is a classic.**

**Tell me what you want to see here,**

**_Auf Wiedersehen _****then (taking German)**

**~QueenVamp**


End file.
